Varanasi, India

November 19,

I am sitting at the Ganga Fuji guest house with the various tourists from the UK, Australia and New Zeland. The boss tells us to have a seat. And for the first time here in Varanasi, my headache is beginning to subside.

Some people say that India is a constant headache. For the moment, I could not agree more. There are vehicles swiping at you from every direction. There is dust coming out from every angle. There are people coming at you with every trinket known to humankind. It begins to make sense why yoga was started in this country. It prevents people from the straight jacket. It also makes sense why Buddha became enlightened not far from this very spot. It furthermore makes sense how Buddha came up with his 4 noble truths: sorrow, the cause of sorrow, the end of sorrow, and the path leading to the End of Sorrow. My current theory is that the citizens of India need an escape from the chaos of its 1.1 billion people. They need to escape from the constant heckling of the Cycle rickshaws, Auto rickshaws, and bovine creatures. If anyone has found the path leading to the End of Sorrow, please send me an email straight away.


The Brahman (high class priest) has just stepped on the couch behind me and is murmuring some prayers in Hindi to Shiva - the God responsible for destroying and recreating things. The Brhaman looks into a red lighted box and reads his prayers similar to how an elementary school kid emphatically recites the Pledge of Allegiance. Within minutes, he is gone. Express prayer. You can leave the two hour sermon behind you. Now that is a religion looking into when I get back home.

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Varanassi is a love/hate relationship. It is India's olderst city - from the 6th century B.C. -- and to be quite honest, you can tell immediately when you get there. The old city is limited only to small motorbikes, pedestrians and cows. After one night in the plush outskirts of town in the Cantonment district, we dive into the old city like a 5 year old dives off the high dive for the first time. We take the auto-rickshaw as far as it goes, which is on the fringe of the city centre. For those not familiar with an auto-rickshaw, imagine attaching a lawn mower engine into an golf cart. You then fill the vehicle to 175% capacity, and charge exhorbatant ammounts to take people very small distances.

The driver lets us off the rickshaw as we walk on to the main Bazaar - rucksacks strapped in. It is like a scene out of the "Indiana Jones - Temple of Doom" movie. Shops and Bazaars outline an otherwise dusty road. There are no addresses - simply alleyways. The traffic is chaos. The rickshaws run rampantly down the roads with no sign of traffic laws in sight. The only thing that trumps their manner is the holy cow. Black cows, white cows, bony cows, gangly cows - it does not matter. The cow runs the road. That is the end of the story.

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Varanasi is considered the holiest city in all of India. Its temples mark the epicenter of Hinduism, attracting thousands of pilgrims each year. It would make sense that the Ganges river - India's largest and holiest river - would flow right through Varanasi. The people of Varanasi hold the Ganges with high regards. They believe that the river has a healing and theraputic power. Hence, many spiritual rituals are performed here on the river Ganges.
One such ritual is what I will call "The Sendoff of the Dead". During the day, the townspeople decorate the recently deceased in a shiny foil. The deceased are then put on to stretchers and paraded through the old city. After a brief ceremony in one of the old Hindu Temples, they are taken down to a ghat - a tiered riverbank where the sendoff ceremony will take place later that evening.
There are many ghats in Varanasi. They are mainly separated by caste system. For example, someone in the priest caste would be sent off in a different ghat than someone in the warrior Caste. We go to the Manikarka Ghat that evening, where mainly members of the priest caste are sent off.

Huge fires have been created along the ghats. The dead will first be creamated in a ritualistic nightly ceremony before their remains are sent along the Ganges. We huddle as close as we can around the procedings, but we are warned that getting to close would provoke hostile behavior. To be quite honest, I can understand. I wouldn't want a bunch of strangers scribbling notes and taking pictures at my loved one's funeral. On the flip side, the local Varanasi onlookers have no problem bugging you constantly while you try and watch the "sacred" ceremony. They may try out their broken english and ask questions such as the following:
"Know Something?"
"Friend, where you from?"

You can even pay a few hundred rupees per person to take a boat ride along the Ganges and watch the whole event. I'm sorry, I think I will pass on this and save my money for Redskins tickets.

The only thing I have learned in India is that I make many friends without saying a word. "Hey friend, I can take you around the city". "Hey friend, Rickshaw". They are even so nice to you that even the most tactful of "no's" is responded by a greated persuasion tactic. For example, they are willing to follow you around for 30 minutes stalking after you and yell. "Friend! Friend! Guide!" What nice people. WIth friends like that, who needs enemies.

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After 2 days of getting harrased by our "friends" at the Ghats, we decide to take a trip outside the city. We visit Sarnath. Home of the Buddha enlightenment and the 4 noble truths. It is here that Buddha was born and preached his first ceremony. It is here that Buddha sat under the Bodi tree and became enlightened. On roughly 5 acres of land, the grassy complex provides a great refuge from outside the Old City of Varanassi. There is even a museum that is quiet. While my brain is full from the outside stresses of India, I quietly sit on the benches inside the museum for 20 minutes straight. It was the calmest 20 minutes I have had in days.

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My goal is to not give this area such a hard time. Varanasi proves wonderful in many ways. Every meal we have had here is excellent. We eat South Indian flatbread (Dosas) with chickpeas. We have chana massala (chick peas and vegetables) and paneer palak (cheese and potatoes). Every meal is the equivalent of $3 US or less. We eat Dosas for snacks at 15 cents a piece. At lunch, they even realize to turn on the fan as the only white guy in the restaurant is sweating through his 2nd shirt of the day. Next time, I need not order the spiciest thing on the menu.

After a 3 days stay and a nice shave from the barber, Lisa and I realize it is time to leave. We have the Ganga Fuji guest house reserve a train. The Indian trains are quite good, being the 2nd largest train system in the entire world. Lisa and I get what is called AS-3 reservations. This means an air conditioned car with 6 twin folding beds (3 per side, vertically stacked). We meet some good people from France and Israel, and I eat the non-veg fried chicken and rice. Sleep awaits me. For tomorrow morning, we should arrive in Delhi, India - the Capital. If I've learned one thing in India thus far, it would be that nothing is what it seems, for better or worse.

Keep travelling, wherever you are.

Travelling Sherman